


these walking eyes

by chrkrose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28354413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrkrose/pseuds/chrkrose
Summary: Winter is in the past now. The sun shines high in the sky.Strange how her heart feels restless like a storm in the sea.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 28
Kudos: 197
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange 2020





	these walking eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreadwulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwulf/gifts).



> When I saw Dreadwulf was the person I got, I went “yeeeeah dreadwulf” and then “oh shit dreadwulf”. I mean, she’s the Queen of pinning and angst that makes you want to cry for days and then she gives you a warm blanket and the perfect ending, so the pressure of writing something good... THE PRESSURE 
> 
> Not sure if I actually managed, and tbh I’m not sure if I’m happy with this story either. But the moment I read her prompts, that’s what popped in my head, and while it changed quite a bit, the main plot remains the same. This would be originally more angst, and a bit of Brienne receiving attention from an unexpected suitor, but I scrapped that from the final product. I ended up lessening the angst because it’s a gift lmaoo. 
> 
> Dreadwulf, I hope you enjoy this. I purposely skipped all the political aspect I hope you don’t min lol. I also tried to hit the three things you asked for. Not sure if it was successful, but I hope you like it regardless. I’m a huge fan of your work ♥️♥️♥️😭😭😭😭
> 
> This is 100% book canon, and the only thing I borrowed from the show is the concept of Brienne having a blue armor. 
> 
> Merry Xmas to all of u lovely people and I loved making part of this exchange ♥️♥️♥️
> 
> Ps: many thanks to Elloise for helping me with some plot points as well as listening to me yelling about how I was afraid I wasn’t going to finish on time.
> 
> Ps 2: Tittle comes from song “I’d let you win”, by PORTS. I think of Brienne when I listen to that specific part.

The sun shines high in the sky, reflecting itself on the blue of the water. 

Brienne’s mind takes her to a worse winter weather, the sun still shy, hiding from view as the ones who lived to see it rising again could barely believe in their luck. 

She wonders if it’s as warm in Casterly Rock as it is where she stands right now, on a ship a mere few hours from Tarth.

_Would Jaime have come to Tarth with me, have I asked him to?_

That’s an answer she’ll never know, although the likelihood of him coming with her was slim. She couldn’t help herself wondering though. She wished she had asked. Or at least told him to visit once he could. She would welcome him on Tarth, no matter what others have to say about it.

She still remembers the way his arms wrapped around her when the war had ended, how hard he was breathing against the skin of her neck. _I wish he had never stopped holding me._ A foolish thought, but she can’t shake the feeling even all these weeks later.

They barely had time to talk once they realized the magnitude of what they had faced. Ravens arrived as if they had been waiting for the fight to end so they could bring the letters sent from far away. The dead had risen everywhere among The Seven Kingdoms. Lords were dead; children were lost; lands destroyed. 

Duty, always duty, pulling them apart. 

Until, much earlier than they had expected, he was needed in The Westerlands, to take his rightful place as Lord of Casterly Rock. And Brienne was here, on a ship to her isle.

Tarth becomes visible to the eye. 

Winter is in the past now. The sun shines high in the sky.

Strange how her heart feels restless like a storm in the sea.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When the ship anchors on the docks, she sees the knights waiting for her, House Tarth’s banner flying high behind them. Brienne knows, immediately, what this means. Her father is receiving her not as his daughter, coming back home after so much time spent apart; He’s welcoming her as The Blue Knight, the warrior that fought in The Battle for the Dawn, the one who faced the dead and survived to tell their tale.

Brienne feels her cheeks burning crimson when she leaves the ship, her blue armor feeling heavier than it ever has. 

The journey to Evenfall Hall it’s longer than it should be, with people from Evenfall Village leaving their houses to watch the procession while she travels the streets of the village, Brienne flanked by the Knights of the Isle while she’s led to the white castle on top of the hill. 

At the Marble Gates that guard the entrance for the path that will take her to Evenfall Hall, Tarth’s nobility awaits for her. She recognizes Lord Romny and Lady Barbara of House Trowbridge, as well as Lord Merrett and Lady Leonne of House Harper. Lord Aladore and Lady Alysanne of House Bruston are present as well, and even Lord Rycherd and Lady Alys of House Camber, who’s relationship with House Tarth had been strained when Brienne left so many moons ago, stand with the other Lords and Ladies. 

And behind all of them, looming tall and strong, is her father. Lord Selwyn Tarth. The Evenstar. 

Brienne dismounts her horse once she’s close enough, and the knights open in formation, standing on each side of the road. The Lords and Ladies of Tarth do the same. Until it’s just Brienne and her father, each standing at the beginning and the end of the path created in front of them. She has an urge to touch her cheek, a habit she had taken when it was too cold and her face felt numb, but she fights against it.

Brienne walks ahead, but startles when the knights and Lords kneel when she passes by them. The Ladies bow their heads. 

She’s flushed and something has lodged in her throat by the time she’s in front of her father. The whole time, she can’t look in his eyes. Lord Selwyn bows his head, and when he stands up tall again and stares right at her, Brienne doesn’t know what to think of the look he gives her. She has never been good in reading her father, and thinks he would tell her the same, if she ever asked. 

She does not know what to make of this. Did he consider it his duty, to receive her as a hero from the war, after what they have all been through? She has seen the destruction in a few of the houses in the village, has seen the broken pieces that weren’t yet amended. She knows the dead had risen here too; knows that winter reached their isle as well. _I should have been here to fight for them. To fight alongside my father. A son would have._

Brienne fumbles a bit with her sword belt, until Oathkeeper is safe in her hands. She can’t unsheath it, not here. But she kneels in front of her father, like the knight she’ll never be, and offers him the sword.

_“My L-lord Father”_ her voice sounds too thick, and she clears her throat. _“I offer you the sword that slayed the dead. The sword that slayed the ice dragon. As a… as a gift. To honor our house.”_

Something in her father’s face falls, and she has a moment of panic, of thinking she embarrassed him somehow, but then he’s kneeling in front of her, his hand on her shoulder. She does not remember the last time her father touched her, and the act has her eyes suddenly filling with tears. 

Not once he looks at Oathkeeper. 

_“Child”_ her father says, and she feels the wind carrying his voice beyond her, wrapping itself around her. “ _The greatest gift and honor... is having you for a daughter”._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The feast is still happening somewhere in the castle, but Brienne has long excused herself and the people don’t seem to mind. 

Oathkeeper it’s to be placed in the Hall of the Heroes on the morrow, alongside portraits of honorable members of their house and weapons deemed worthy of being there. In the center of the room there’s a huge statue made of marble, almost touching the ceiling. It’s Galladon of Morne, holding his magic sword, The Just Maid. His other arm is wrapped around the statue of The Maiden, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed. 

Brienne stands there beneath them for a moment. She didn’t want anyone to bring Oathkeeper here but herself. Still does not trust anyone touching the sword. Anyone but herself. 

And Jaime.

She unsheathes it, and the soft blue glow of the steel still catches her breath, even though she has seen it so many times by now, even though she had seen it shining so much brighter while in battle. 

_“So it’s true then. What the tales say about The Blue Knight and it’s magic sword”_ her father’s voice is loud in the silence of the Hall and Brienne startles. She hadn’t heard his footsteps.

_“Father”_ She blushes, shaking her head. A smile plays on her lips though. 

_“You very much look like a hero, child. You have the scars of one”_ he tells her, standing by her side. She fights the urge of touching her cheek again. They both look at the sword instead. _“Why do you think it’s still glowing, Brienne?”_

_“I do not know, father”_ she moves the sword in her hand, the once red ripples that marked the Valyrian steel now purple when contrasted with the blue light that emanates from the blade. 

_“The pommel…”_ her father says, and something about his tone of voice makes Brienne look up. _“Were the other tales… the ones about you and The Kingslayer... were they true as well?”_

It’s involuntary, the anger that bubbles inside of her when she hears that monicker.

_“I don’t know what you have heard, father… but Ser Jaime is a man of honor. I…”_ her anger falters when she sees the smile that blooms in her father’s face, and she drops her eyes to Oathkeeper once more. _“I w-would not be here, if not for him”_

_“So is it true then? That he lost his hand to a bear. To save you”_

_“What?”_ Brienne gasps, looking up at her father again. _“No! That’s not… that’s not how it happened”._

_“Tell me then.”_ He says, serene. Brienne realizes she barely had time to have a conversation with her father once the feast had begun, so she nods.

She proceeds to tell him how she met Jaime, her oath to Lady Catelyn. Their time traveling together, she and Jaime and Cleos, and when his cousin was killed and they were taken captive. She tries to keep her voice even when she tells him about his maiming. 

After, they are both silent for a while.

_“I owe Ser Jaime a lot... despite the bear not being anything other than a very creative made up tale. A pity. I was rather fond of that story”_

Brienne remembers the sound of Jaime’s feet hitting the sand behind her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it.

_“The bear… it happened. It wasn’t… it’s true, father. Just not as you heard”_

She does not look at her father’s face while telling him so, but she knows he probably has an eyebrow raised.

_“I see we have a lot to talk about, daughter”._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Pod arrives three days later. 

Once she arrived in White Harbour, Brienne was about to go on another quest, to go to him once she found out where the children had been sent to. Still remembers his tear-streaked face when she had boarded him in one of the wagons filled with children and elderly who couldn’t fight. But then a raven had come, written in Podrick’s name, informing he was boarding a ship to Tarth. Probably in hopes she would have survived and he would find her there.

She imagines a storm delayed his arrival, but it’s no matter. She’s waiting at the docks when he spots her. He’s a head taller than the last time she saw him.

Pod’ smile all but erases the memory of his tears.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brienne thinks of writing Jaime to tell him about Podrick’s arrival. 

She doesn’t.

And for the next fortnight since she has arrived on Tarth, she thinks of writing him many times over. 

When she visits The City of Morne and passes by the marble mines. 

When she sees the Ruins of Morne while taking Pod to her favorite waterfall. 

(She definitely _does not_ think about writing to him when she scrubs herself clean while immersed in the warm water of a bathtub brought to her room, memories of another bath assaulting her mind’s eyes constantly.)

Brienne imagines him beside her everyday, for the entire day, a phantom presence she can’t shake off. 

  
Imagines what he’d have to say about the things she sees, the people she talks to. 

For most part, it’s bearable, and in the light of the day she can almost convince herself that it's no different from her feelings for Renly. That knowing he is alive and well it’s enough. That loving Jaime from afar it’s enough.

It’s only at night, when she stares at the clear sky and the stars shining above from her bed near the window, that she acknowledges how much she misses him. How so much bigger is the space he occupies in her heart. 

Loving Jaime feels nothing like loving Renly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


On the twentieth day since she put her feet on Tarth for the first time since The Battle for the Dawn, a raven arrives.

For a short moment, her heart fills with hope that perhaps it’s Jaime. But once she recognizes the dragon crest in the seal, she realizes how foolish such thought is. She tries not to think of the wave of disappointment that threatens to crash on her and focus on her father instead while he reads the letter out loud. 

It’s from the Queen and the King. There is to be a tourney in celebration of the living in King’s Landing. The city is still lifting itself from the ground, but Brienne sees the reason behind such festivities so soon after the war. It’s good for the spirits.

All the Lords and their heirs are invited, as well as all of those who have fought so bravely against The Others. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They set for King’s Landing a sennight later, and she waves at Podrick, who chose to stay behind. 

The sea is calm, and they meet no storms along the way. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Brienne is received by The Royal Guard, and the reception is not much different than the one she received on Tarth. People in the streets stop to see her passing by, and she sees many try to spy if she had brought the enchanted sword that slayed ice dragons and frozen monsters. She had decided to leave Oathkeeper in Evenfall Hall, but she came to regret the decision as soon as she set sail from Tarth, as being without the blade feels like walking without no clothes on herself.

At least she has her armor on when she finally reaches The Red Keep, and she thinks most of the small folk weren’t that disappointed. The Blue Armor has become a tale in itself, at least that’s what she had heard. 

The Lords and Ladies already present in King’s Landing are all standing in the main yard to greet her, as well as the rest of the court. The King and The Queen stand behind them, on top of the stairs that lead to inside the palace, the Kingsguad standing beside them. 

Seeing the white cloak makes her think of Jaime. 

Brienne and her father greet them, and soon enough they are led to the apartments that they’ll stay in while attending The Tourney and the feasts that will follow. 

Brienne hears as The Queen speaks of the small wedding ceremonies that’ll take place in the following days, betrothals that have been arranged after the war was over. She does not specify any of the Lords and Ladies that will wed with the blessing of The Seven, but Brienne’s heart clenches beneath her chest plate.

She knows how important The Westerlands are for the realm. She knows that politically, it’s important for The Warden of The West to make a good match, that a marriage will happen soon for the one holding Casterly Rock. 

She wonders if Jaime will leave King’s Landing as a married Lord, and the thought doesn’t leave her mind any longer.

Brienne doesn’t think she can bear it. She doesn’t think she can see it happening, Jaime marrying a suitable Lady, a woman who will give him the heirs he deserves, a woman who will love him and care for him and become Lady Lannister as she no doubts many of them wish to be. 

She has seen the beautiful women attending court. She knows many of them are of noble birth. She knows many are yet to arrive.

All of them perfectly suitable to become the next Lady of Casterly Rock. 

All of them but herself.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Brienne manages to spend most of her days while waiting for all the Lords and Ladies to arrive at the capital either in company of her father or sparing in one of the more secluded yards in The Red Keep.

But a sennight later and The Queen invites her to spend the afternoon with herself and a few of the Ladies that are attending the Tourney.

When Brienne enters The Queen’s Solar, she tries to recognize a few of their faces, wondering if perhaps someone from The North is present. But all of them are Southerners, none who she fought or slept beside while freezing to the bones.

So she sits beside the Queen, smiling politely while they talk. They treat her well, and don’t seem to mind if she's gainly and too big, or that her dress is a bit worn out. Not once they look at her cheek and for that she’s grateful beyond belief.

That is, until Lady Heleora Dargood, one of the minor houses in the crownlands, turns to the Queen. 

_“I heard The Warden of The West is well on his way to arrive in King’s Landing, Your Grace Is that true?”_ She asks, smiling sweetly to the Queen. Her hair is white, having long lost the silver blond quality of the ones born with Valyrian blood in the Free Cities, but her eyes are still purple. Her daughter though, Lady Helaena, sitting beside her mother, could as well be of Targaryen birth. She’s seven-and-ten, and almost as beautiful as the queen herself. 

_“It is, my Lady. Lord Lannister must be arriving the next day, somewhere between midday and late evening”._ The Queen chances a glance at Brienne, and she drops her eyes to the tea in her hands, hoping nobody has noticed how eager she’s been paying attention since Lady Dargood has spoken.

_“My Helaena is fascinated with Lord Lannister, Your Grace. Cannot speak of anyone else”_

_“Mother”_ the girl whispers, and Brienne looks up to see a pretty blush spreading among her cheeks, her violet eyes rolling while her mother smiles, unbothered by the reprimand.

The Queen smiles too, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

_“We’ll see if I can introduce you to him, Lady Helaena. Now, forgive my curiosity, but I must say I’m rather fond of your style of dress, my lady. Where is it from? I’m sure I haven’t seen such a cut in King’s Landing.”_

The subject moves on, much to Brienne’s relief, as well as disappointment.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Jaime will be here on the morrow,_ Brienne thinks while laying in bed later.

Will The Queen suggest a match between Lady Helaena and Ser Jaime? She is of noble birth, although house Dargood is not as powerful as other minor houses in King’s Landing. From that perspective, it might be that The Queen finds a match between them not worth pursuing.

Still, She would be Lady Lannister, and their children would have the old blood of Valyria, even if they weren’t Targaryen. _If Jaime wishes to marry her, there’s nothing to be done._ Mayhaps that’s why Lady Dargood mentioned Ser Jaime. Mayhaps the match has been arranged already.

Brienne banishes the thought, focusing instead on the day ahead once she wakes. She’ll see Jaime. Maybe they’ll exchange a few words. Perhaps she could ask him to spar with her, perhaps he’ll find some time to do that. 

She goes to sleep with butterflies flying in her stomach, if from dread or in anticipation of the next day, she’s not so sure. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Brienne is breaking her fast with her father when she’s surprised by Septa Donyse knocking at her door the next morning

_“The Queen sent me to you, my lady”_ she says while entering her chambers, her hands holding baskets filled with fabric and other things Brienne can’t name. _“As you’re one of the first Great Heroes to arrive, she wants you to be next to her while receiving The Lannister host and Lord Lannister himself. Shall we begin?”_

Brienne stares wide eyed while The Septa stands holding a piece of blue fabric in one hand. 

She nods. There’s not much else she can do.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Her dress is similar to one made for her a long time ago, commissioned by the man she’s now waiting to receive, standing a few steps beside The Queen and The King while they look over the city of King’s Landing. Now she sees that from here, they can track the path that’s been taken by The Lannisters' host, and even though he’s far away, Brienne thinks she can see Jaime riding at the front. 

It’s still going to be a while until he reaches The Red Keep, and she tries not to think of the fact she had asked Septa Donyse to cut her hair a bit shorter, in hopes it would make it seem a bit more lively, less weighted by the straight dry strands. It didn’t help, in the end, but at least it does not look worse either. She tries not to look at Lady Helaena a few steps below her, down in the courtyard. She looks beautiful under the sunlight, her purple dress and silver white hair moving gently with the fresh wind coming from the ocean. 

Then the gates of The Red Keep are opened. Brienne was right. It was Jaime at the front. Her breath catches at the sight of him.

He’s the first one to ride inside the walls of the Keep. Widow’s Wail is strapped to his belt, and he is wearing a long red cloak that drapes over his horse. 

But he has no armor on himself, just a red tunic and dark breeches. The only gold in him besides the pommel of his sword and it’s scabbard is the golden curls of his hair.

It doesn’t make him any less beautiful. 

He rides effortlessly and easily among the people, making his way to the upper grounds of The Red Keep, to the main garden where The Court waits to greet him as the hero he should have been recognized so long ago. 

When he finally enters the courtyard, there’s a few shouts from Knights and Lords, and some of the Ladies are clapping excitedly. 

He dismounts his horse, his lips twisted in that smirk she had seen so many times when he was her captive, arrogant and full of himself, as if the world is his for the taking. She knows it as a mask now, after sleeping and fighting and eating and almost dying beside him. She misses his genuine smiles while they froze in the north, even if they were rare and far in between.

Jaime walks towards where the court stands, his eyes roaming here and there to assess the Lords and Ladies who are present. She sees the moment he spots Lady Helaena, but his stare doesn’t linger. 

Then he looks at The King and Queen and he seems to walk more purposefully towards them, a glint in his gaze she can’t quite place. 

He’s on the first step of the stairs when his gaze roams to their right, and then he’s staring right at her.

Brienne feels like she can’t breath. She feels her cheeks reddening, her whole face heating quickly, but she can’t drop his gaze, even though she wants to, desperately. But it’s been _weeks_ since she last saw him, and she doesn’t know for how long she’ll be able to just look at him. She wants to commit all of his features to memory, so when she returns to Tarth she’ll know how to better imagine him in the gaps of her life, that now seem so many without his presence beside her.

Jaime step falters. 

And then he’s climbing the steps two at a time, and not on a straight line towards The King and Queen, but to the right, and the mask of his smile is gone, replaced by a seriousness Brienne has never seen before in his face, his eyes sparkling while his gaze never wavers.

It’s only when Jaime is a few steps from her that Brienne realizes he’s moving _towards_ where she’s standing. There’s no time to process the thought, for he’s suddenly right in front of her, and then his arm wraps around her waist and he all but pulls her into his chest, his other arm crossing over her shoulders, his bearded cheek pressing against her scarred one while his face seems to bury itself in her hair.

_“Brienne”_ she thinks she hears him whisper against the strands, and she knows she should be embarrassed beyond belief, that this could be taken as an insult to The Queen and King, that he ought to let her go and greet them instead. 

But all of those thoughts are swept by the strength of his arms around her, and when she circles his body with her own arms, her hands splaying against his shoulder blades, Jaime all but melts, his mouth dropping to her neck, his hand buried in her hair while his warm breath dances across her skin.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jaime does not leave her side for the rest of the evening, her arm intertwined with his while he goes from one Lord to another, charming them all. He doesn’t let go of her, even though they had barely exchanged any words after they hugged.

The King and Queen surprisingly found it all very amusing, and they still have their heads on their shoulder when Your Grace announces the feast to begin. 

Brienne thinks she can feel her father staring at her from somewhere in the hall, but she tries to distract herself with Jaime’s presence beside her. 

It’s not something hard to do. She tries to be discreet so he doesn’t catch her staring at him so often, but their gazes cross more times she can count. 

Then he excuses himself with the Lord he had been talking to, one Brienne cannot recall the name, and then he’s tugging her outside the hall, towards one of the many hallways in The Red Keep. He walks fast, urgently, and she keeps up with him, even though she doesn’t know what’s the matter, where he is taking her to.

Then he turns to the right, and then to the right again to where Brienne thought there was a wall, but it’s instead a hidden alcove, silent and away from prying ears and eyes.

Jaime pulls her to him and turns them around, Brienne’s back against the cool wall behind her. He 's so close. This is highly inappropriate.

She feels her cheeks flushing, and something burns low in her belly, her thighs clenching against each other.

_“You have to put me out of my misery Brienne.”_ Jaime whispers, desperately. He’s watching her with eyes so intense she needs a moment to focus on his words instead of his perfect face.

He speaks as if this is an ongoing conversation, and she has no idea what he’s talking about.

_“I… S-ser, I don’t understand it.”_

_“The raven. The letter I wrote you. Tell me Brienne.”_

_“Letter? I haven’t received any letter, Ser. You… you never wrote me”_ Brienne tells him, and she can hear the way it sounds, wounded, hurt. Almost accusatory.

_“You haven’t… oh for bloody sake, I hate those thrice damned birds, I swear by the seven…”_ he starts, but then he shakes his head and cups her face with his hand. _“I wrote you asking for your hand. I’m a fool, I should have asked for that a long time ago, I felt it for so long… marry me Brienne. Marry me and have me and be mine, and allow me to eat and sleep and think of something else than not why it is taking so damn long for you to answer me, because I can’t stop thinking of anything else than not you and how much I want you to be mine. I’ve been unreasonable and the poorest of the companies, all because I keep making up scenarios in my head where you have taken another and I was too late. There’s no one else I’d-“_

Brienne kisses him.

It’s quick and chaste and she’s so embarrassed already for being so forward, but she can’t trust herself to speak right now. Not when she feels the tears forming in her eyes.

Jaime smiles, the smile she likes so much, and then he’s moving forward, pressing her body against the wall with his own, warm and solid and real and _here,_ and his lips land on hers, wet, hot, urgent. Demanding. Taking her breath away. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Lord Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock and Lady Brienne of Tarth are the first noble couple to wed after the living won the battle against The Others.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In the end, Jaime chooses to go to Tarth with Brienne. She had worried that perhaps that would displease The Queen and The King, but Jaime assured her that Tyrion as his castellan was enough for the ‘Your Graces’ to be satisfied with his choice.

Their plan is to spend a few turns of the moon on Tarth and then depart for Casterly Rock, but when Jaime steps on the isle for the first time, Brienne has the impression he will postpone their departure for as long as he can.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She takes him to The Hall of The Heroes as soon as they can excuse themselves from the feast in celebration of their union. He had been asking to see it as soon as her father told them both that he requested a painter from Essos to come to Tarth in the following weeks. 

He wanted a portrait of Brienne to hang among the others. And one of Jaime as well. 

Once they enter the room, Jaime’s eyes go wide when he sees the statue of The Maiden and Galladon of Morne. 

_“Is that…?”_ He trails off, turning to her, and she nods. Brienne had told him about the tale of Ser Galladon while on the ship, but had held off telling him of the statue. She wanted to see his face when he saw them for the first time.

It’s only when he walks closer that he spots the soft blue glow of Oathkeeper lying on a marble pedestal. They both stop to look at it.

_“I confess I wondered more than once why you didn’t have it on you while we were in King’s Landing”_ Jaime says. _“But then I would see you in our chambers or around the castle and the thought would fly right out of my mind.”_

The last part is said with so much innuendo he might as well have described one of the many _things_ they had done together, _in their chambers_ as well as _around the castle_. Brienne shoves him gently with her elbow, trying not to blush thinking of what they’ll probably be doing later once she shows him their rooms in Evenfall Hall.

_“Why do you think it still glows, Jaime?”_ She asks him, partly to change the subject, but also because she genuinely wonders.

_“I have no idea. The Maiden’s Kiss glows as well”_ he had the sword renamed ever since he went to Casterly Rock. It was one of the things he wrote her about. She still wished the letter hadn’t gotten lost, but she can’t really mourn it when he’s here beside her, real and tangible.

She’s still watching Oathkeeper when she sees Jaime moving in the corner of her eye, and when she looks at him, he’s unsheathing The Maiden’s Kiss, the glow of the sword making it seem like he’s a god from another world, a creature of dreams.

He lays the sword beside Oathkeeper on the marble pedestal.

And then the light in both blades go out. 

Both Jaime and Brienne take a step back, Jaime’s arm stretching in front of Brienne protectively.

_“Jaime?”_ She asks, alarmed. 

He suddenly gasps, and when she looks at him, he’s staring at the blades, his mouth open. When Jaime turns his eyes to her, they are wide, disbelief written all over his face.

She keeps staring from him to the swords, and then back to him. 

_“Brienne… I… Brienne…”_ Jaime whispers, and she feels more and more confused.

_“What is it?”_ She asks him again. _“Is there something wrong? Do you think this means something?”_

_“I…”_ Jaime’s face suddenly opens, the corner of his mouth twitching up, a smile so big on his face she feels herself smiling back despite herself. 

Then he 's laughing. Full of joy and wonder.

_“Brienne…”_ he says, stepping into her, pulling her into his arms in a hug so fierce she almost can’t breathe. She should have been used to being hugged by him. Jaime touches her all the time, as if he can’t bear not feeling her skin against his lips, his hands, his body. But Brienne has found she’s been starved for that, for his touch, so she basks in it, and it feels like the first time every time.

He’s still laughing, lifting her off the ground and twisting her around. When he puts her feet back on the floor, he grabs her face with his hand, his stump touching her other cheek, and kisses her hard, breathless and panting. 

_“Jaime… “_ she says when he lets her go, still staring at her full of wonder. _“I don’t understand”_

_“The swords, Brienne. ”_ He says, as if the answer is right there. _“One sword, melted steel... enough for two blades. Twin blades…. Two halves of a whole...You and me. And the light… and the dream. Brienne, the bloody dream!”_

_“Jaime… you are making no sense”_

He closes his eyes, breathing deep. He pulls her closer, right arm wrapped around her middle, his forehead resting on hers. Then he opens his eyes.

_“I dreamed of you. Before the bear pit.”_

_“You told me that. That’s why you… you came back for me”_

He grimaces, displeased, but she squeezes his hand that still cups her cheek, to let him know she doesn’t mind the reason. 

_“In the dream, you fought beside me. Both of us, together, against ghosts armored in snow. We had blue flaming swords, and when my light went out, yours stayed glowing in the dark. Lighting the path. In the north…”_ his voice falters, and he kisses her gently on the lips this time, before speaking, _“In the north, that’s how I knew you were still there when I couldn’t see you.”_

She remembers. The darkness, the cold. The screams. Death.

And the blue flame, the glow that kept her sane and alive and fighting. 

It always led them right back to each other

_“Oh”_ Brienne says. She thinks she’s starting to understand it now. 

  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes I adapted a scene from Mulan because I just love the relationship between Mulan and her father 😭
> 
> Also this was supposed to be a lot smuttier, but j/b wanted to be cute instead. A shame really


End file.
